


12 a.m.

by Traviosita9124



Series: Hour by Hour [13]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, High School AU, secret dating au, secret relationship au, teenagers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 15:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: No matter where he drove, what he did, all he could see was the ugly look on the headmaster’s face as he leaned out of his car window and demanded that Jemma get in the car. The look on her face haunted him. Fitz had never seen someone look so distraught, and the fact that it had been Jemma - her face crumpling inward as she tried not to cry on the street - had only made it a thousand times worse.





	

Fitz was fuming. 

 

No matter where he drove, what he did, all he could see was the ugly look on the headmaster’s face as he leaned out of his car window and demanded that Jemma get in the car. The look on her face haunted him. Fitz had never seen someone look so distraught, and the fact that it had been Jemma - her face crumpling inward as she tried not to cry on the street - had only made it a thousand times worse. 

 

A hot surge of rage lanced through Fitz’ chest, and he punched the steering wheel of his old DeVille -  _ once _ ,  _ twice _ ,  _ thrice  _ \- until a sharp pain zinged from his knuckles to his elbows and up into his shoulder. The last blow had set off the horn, bringing a string of foul-mouthed protests from the few people who were still out in what laughably passed as the “urban” center of their small town. 

 

Frustrated enough as it was without calling more attention to himself, Fitz stopped abusing the steering wheel in favor of slamming his other fist into the ceiling of his car. The reverberation through the metal and down his arm soothed him. It was nice to at least feel like he had an impact on something -  _ anything _ \- for once. 

 

Fitz was gearing up to do it again when a sharp rap on passenger window startled him, causing him to jump and curse. With his heart nearly beating out of his chest, he leaned over and cranked down the window so he could yell at his friend without any obstruction. 

 

“Hunter, wha’ the fuck?”

 

“Fitzy, mate, I’m sorry, but that was priceless.” He gave him a too-toothy grin that meant he was already feeling drunk and gave Fitz a once-over. “You look nice. Wait… you went out with Jemma tonight. Shouldn’t you be…?” Hunter let the question dangle as he made a rude hand gesture indicating exactly what he thought Fitz should be up to at this hour. 

 

“Enough,” Fitz growled. He rolled up the window before climbing out of the DeVille and stalking around to the other side. “Y’ have any more o’ tha’ Maker’s Mark?”

 

Hunter’s expression changed from teasing to sympathetic, and he reached out to pat Fitz on the shoulder. 

 

“Yeah, I do. C’mon up and tell us what happened.”

 

Fitz followed Hunter into his apartment building - the only building that was taller than 10 storeys within a five-mile radius - and into the elevator. Instead of getting off at his floor, though, they rode it all the way up, then slipped through the door marked “Management Only” in blocky white text with practiced ease. The air in the stairwell was heavy, seeming to weigh them down as they trotted up the stairs, but they pressed on and were rewarded with a crisp spring breeze when they finally emerged onto the roof.

 

Bobbi was lounging against the ledge, a smile playing on her lips as Fitz and Hunter plopped down on either side of her. Without asking, she handed Fitz a half-empty bottle of Maker’s Mark. He promptly took a swig. 

 

“Heard you all the way up here,” she began, nudging Fitz’ shoulder with her own. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

Fitz’ first instinct was to refuse. It had taken him a long while to open up to Jemma again, and having her father yank her away left that particular wound feeling far too tender. He’d come to Hunter’s hoping to find his friends so he wouldn’t have to be alone, but he hadn’t been prepared to talk about it. About Jemma. He looked over at his friends and found them both watching him, their expressions earnest, and before he realized it, Fitz found himself talking. 

 

“It wen’ well. Dinner was nice, an’ I had a good time. I think she did, too, until her da showed up.” He took another swig of bourbon and passed the bottle over to Hunter. “He was  _ pissed _ .”

 

“I’m sure he was.” Bobbi’s voice was sly, like she knew something Fitz didn’t, and he sat forward automatically. “I mean, he found his daughter with a boy who’s built a reputation on cutting every class he can, and who’s dated his fair share of the school. How’d you think he’d react?”

 

“Tha’s no’ it,” Fitz grumbled, sinking back agains the bricks behind him. “Well, not  _ only  _ tha’. He’s hated me for a while.”

 

“Couldn’t tell, mate,” Hunter chipped in, “not with the way he’s always dying to throw you in detention.”

 

“Yeah, bu’ tha’s only because he cannae find a way t’ keep me off the Honor Roll.” 

 

They all shared a chuckle at that. It was a poorly kept secret that Headmaster Simmons had long petitioned the school governors to tie honor roll to attendance as well as academic performance. Fortunately for Fitz, someone was refusing to budge. Because it was only tied to his academic performance, he had maintained his spot near the top of the class - and therefore his scholarship - all four years. 

 

The silence only lasted a few minutes before Bobbi broke it again. 

 

“There has to be more to it than just not liking you. It seems extreme for a grown man, even with what a pain in the ass you are.”

 

Fitz shrugged and gestured for Hunter to hand the bottle back. If he was going to talk about this, he wanted to be properly fortified. 

 

“You’re righ’, Bobbi. There has t’ be somethin’ more, bu’ I have no bloody idea wha’ it is. One day… one day she jus’ stopped comin’ over. When I saw her in school, I asked wha’ happened. All she would say was her father wouldn't let her, an’ that was it.” 

 

Even telling them that much had stung, and Fitz found himself struggling to keep himself from becoming entirely morose and ruining any hope he had of salvaging his evening. 

 

“Fitz, how do you feel about her?”

 

“Wha’?” Fitz leaned forward to look across Bobbi at her boyfriend. “Why does tha’ matter?”

 

Hunter and Bobbi held each other’s gaze for a long moment, and Fitz had the uncomfortable feeling that they were talking about him without using any words, despite his sitting right next to him. Whatever they said, Hunter was apparently voted spokesman. 

 

“I’ve never seen you this torn up about a girl, mate. You really like her, don’t you?”

 

If he were being totally honest, Fitz knew he more than just  _ liked  _ Jemma, but he’d had enough with honesty and sharing for the evening. He left it as a nod and gestured for Hunter to continue his point. 

 

“Well, if you feel that way about her, do something about it, and do it before it’s too bloody late. I mean, eventually she’s not going to live with her parents. They won’t have a say over who she dates. Don’t you want to know if there’s a chance?”

 

Fuck. Hunter was making sense. Fitz could see the reason in his argument, even though it caused his nerves to solidify in his gut. He wanted Jemma. That meant he’d have to go after her, even if it meant shaking things up. When they had been younger, he had felt powerless to do anything about losing her friendship. He wasn’t powerless now, and he certainly wasn’t going to stand down when her love and affection - in addition to her friendship - were on the line. 

 

“You’re righ’,” Fitz sighed. “I’ll have t’ figure it out. But it’ll have t’ hold for the mornin’. Righ’ now,” he reached for the bottle, and snagging it easily, took another sip, “get me drunk an’ help me plot my nex’ move.”


End file.
